You were fucked up by the blame
by Nightengale
Summary: "He was sick, we saw him getting worse and worse, and he never was completely stable in the first place." "So what?" Brian leans over the bar to look at Bev. "I should just think it's all okay?"


Bev, Jimmy, and Brian sit in a line at the bar just a few blocks down from work, all with half-drunk beers in front of them. Jimmy also has an empty bottle near his right hand as he'd felt the need to shot gun one the moment they arrived and got the bar tender's attention. The bar is dimly lit, no TVs flashing football games, and no drunken twenty-somethings exclaiming about how great life is when you're young. In fact, the trio sits alone at the bar, the only other patrons choosing tables instead.

The three sit in silence, just the occasional click of glass on wood. Bev sighs heavily and tips up her bottle, taking a long drink. Brian glances at her then back down to his bottle.

Jimmy rolls his bottle around in his hands twice then shakes his head. "Fuck it." He lifts the bottle and chugs down the rest.

"Slow down," Brian says, taking the empty bottle out of Jimmy's hands.

Jimmy shakes his head. "Give it a rest."

"Take your own advice."

"Leave him alone, Brian," Bev says, leaning over the bar slightly to speak past Jimmy between them. "We all get a pass tonight."

Brian scoffs. "Not all of us, not really."

Bev sighs again and sits back on her stool, waving her hand in the air once to attract the bar tender. He comes over and Bev orders shots of whiskey for all three of them. The bar tender pours them in front of Bev which she then quickly passes around. They knock their glasses down on the bar with a quiet tap then drink them in some sort of synchronized accident. Jimmy hisses and stacks the shot glasses, pushing them toward the inside of the bar. Then he takes Bev's beer and chases the shot with one gulp.

"I keep thinking I'm going to wake up, you know?" Brian says suddenly.

"Yeah." Bev reaches over and takes Brian's beer in place of hers, knocking back a quick swallow before putting it back down in front of Brian. "I know."

Jimmy shakes his head, sliding Bev's beer back to her. "But we're not."

"Those fish hooks…" Brian whispers.

"Stop," Jimmy hisses.

"What am I supposed to do?" Brian snaps. "We worked with him for –"

"He's not convicted yet," Bev reasons, laying her hands flat on the bar top.

"We saw the evidence," Brian points at her. "It was in your hand!"

"He was sick, we saw him getting worse and worse, and he never was completely stable in the first place."

"So what?" Brian leans over the bar to look at Bev. "I should just think it's all okay?"

"Jeeze, I didn't say that!"

"All right!" Jimmy interjects and puts a hand on both of their shoulders. "We're all upset but let's not shout about it here, all right?"

Bev sighs and rubs a hand over her face. "I know, I know."

Brian presses his lips tightly together then drinks his beer again until the bottle is empty. Jimmy flags down the bar tender and gets them all another round of beers, some IPA that none of them really savor or even taste for that matter.

"We'll have to testify," Jimmy whispers. Bev breathes in through her nose sharply but does not reply. "At least one of us will," Jimmy adds.

"Fuck…" Bev whispers and runs a hand quickly through her hair.

"Do you think he knew?" Brian asks, turning to the other two.

Bev looks at him out of the corner of her eye. "Knew what?"

"What he was doing? All that time when he was supposedly getting into the killers' heads, was he just retelling what he already knew?"

"He did that at all the crime scenes," Bev holds up a finger, "not just his supposed crimes and –"

"Supposed? Bev…"

Bev glares at Jimmy. "He was sick."

"The whole time?" Brian counters.

"Maybe!" Bev growls. "I can't just accept that he would –"

"Really?" Brian cuts in. "He escaped from a police van; he forced Dr. Lecter to Minnesota back to the Hobbs house and then nearly shot him."

"We don't know what his motive –"

"Motive!"

Bev points at Brian. "And while it looks extremely damaging it could –"

"He had Abigail Hobbs' ear in his sink and blood under his nails!"

"I know, but –"

"Beverly, those fucking fish hooks in his house –"

"Christ, Brian, all right!" Jimmy snaps. "Both of you… Okay, look, it's out of our hands now. We processed the evidence like we're supposed to and we can't do any more. Our part is over."

Bev shakes her head. "It's not over."

Jimmy sips his beer again and shakes his head right back. "For us it is, Bev, what's left?"

"We could find more evidence!"

Jimmy raises his eyebrows at Bev. "Where? His sock drawer? We've been over his whole house. What do you want, Bev?"

"I want Will to be innocent!" She shouts and smacks the bar top with her hand.

The bar tender's head jerks up at them and a few other patrons of the semi-quiet bar turn in their chairs to look at the trio. Bev bites her lip and shifts on her chair. She sighs then picks up her beer, gulping down some more. She gasps a little as she puts the bottle down then puts a hand against her forehead. Jimmy and Brian glance at each other then look back at Bev, waiting.

She shakes her head and stares at the bar top. "If he really did it, if he really killed all five of them then it has to have been because he was sick. The Will Graham I know, the one I have seen, would never want to cause any of the crimes we get. It would tear him apart."

"Maybe it already has," Jimmy whispers.

Bev's eyes tick up to lock with Jimmy's for a moment then they both look away again.

Suddenly, Brian laughs once in a breathy way. "What about his dogs?"

"What?" Jimmy and Bev say together, turning around.

"Will's dogs, you know he had five or so."

"Six," Jimmy corrects.

Brian nods. "Yeah... so what's going to happen to them?"

Bev laughs lightly and rubs her eyes.

"Dr. Bloom is going to look after them." Bev raises her eyebrows at Jimmy and he shrugs. "I overheard her talking to Jack."

Brian just nods and Bev sips her beer again. "Good for the dogs."

"You know who I'm mad at?" Jimmy continues abruptly.

"You get mad?" Brian grumbles.

"Dr. Lecter."

Bev cocks her head to the side and Brian shakes his. "Come on, he's not a cop. What was he supposed to do?"

Jimmy's bottle slams down on the bar top so Bev and Brian jump in surprise. Jimmy turns to Brian and his voice is extremely calm. "Help Will. That's what he was supposed to do, help Will. He was Will's psychiatrist. It was his job to know when his patient was hitting the bottom. Any of us could see that Will was getting worse. Dr. Lecter was the one who was supposed to know just how bad it really was."

"Psychiatry isn't an exact science, Jimmy." Bev raises both eyebrows. "How many witnesses have we seen at crime scenes with that same stunned look?"

Jimmy turns to her. "But how many of them had someone in their corner that was supposed to keep them on the right track?" Jimmy raises his eyebrows back at Bev. "Jack brought Dr. Lecter in to make sure that nothing happened to Will with what he does at the crime scenes; you've seen his face. And yet what happened?"

"We can't put that all at his door," Brian reasons, his voice just a bit plaintive. "Will did –"

"Didn't know what he was doing, because his brain was on fire?" Jimmy asks. "Isn't that what we actually think? It all happened because he was sick?"

"That's what I asked," Brian insists, "isn't that the point? Did Will consciously know or was he sick?"

"Either way, I'm going to put a lot of this on Lecter. Psychiatrists assess mental states, and if Will went so far as…" Jimmy drums his fingers on the bar top then lays them flat. "Dr. Lecter failed."

Bev grumbles loudly then shakes her head, pushing her stool back from the bar. "I can't talk about this anymore."

Brian flicks up a hand. "Bev, come on."

"No." Bev takes one more sip of her beer and stands up. "We can drink and think about this and worry and theorize but it's not helping anything, is it?" Bev pulls her wallet out of her back pocket and lays a twenty in front of Jimmy. "I can't sit here anymore drowning my sorrows."

"What then?" Jimmy asks.

"I'm going back to the lab."

Brian sighs. "After two beers and a Whiskey?" Bev shoots Brian a scathing look and he holds up his hands in a surrender gesture. "Well!"

She frowns. "Then I'll sit there for an hour before I can properly go over the evidence again, all right?"

"Okay, okay, sorry," Brian acquiesces.

Jimmy turns slightly toward Bev standing beside him and fixes her with a look. "Isn't going over the evidence again and again just the same as thinking and worrying?"

Bev shrugs. "Maybe, but it feels better to me."

They pause a moment just looking at each other, then Bev steps around Jimmy's stool, touches Brian's shoulder once as she passes, and walks away to the door. As the door clicks closed behind her, the two men turn back to the bar and what remains of their beers. They stare at the bar top, occasionally lifting their bottles to take long drinks. Ten minutes pass without a word between them.

"Okay." Jimmy pulls out his wallet and adds some bills to the twenty left by Bev. He waves a hand at the bar tender and points to the money on the bar. "Keep it." Then he stands up and shakes Brian's shoulder gently. "Come on."

Brian shrugs. "I may stay."

"Come on."

"I just… I mean, we weren't really close but… I don't…"

"I know." Jimmy squeezes Brian's shoulder. "Come on, let's go sit with Bev. What can it hurt?"

Brian stands up without touching his beer again and pulls his coat off the back of his chair. He looks at Jimmy and nods once, "All right, let's find some more evidence."

Jimmy smiles. "All right."

Jimmy puts his arm over Brian's shoulders and they head to the door. Brian shoots off a quick text to Bev as the bar door closes behind them, 'We're coming over. All for one and one for all.'

Maybe Will is not done for just yet.


End file.
